The Tiger
by Dream4
Summary: A challenge Fic. Separate from Echoes. Impaled George W Hermione G.


_Disclaimer:_ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

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~ **The Tiger**~  


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AN: I 'm writing this because my muse wouldn't let it be. Implied Hermione/George. Plus I was given a challenge to write a song or poem based Fic, it's by William Blake. If you the readers want more…you'll just have to let me know, otherwise this is a one shot Fic.   
  
  
_Tiger, tiger, burning bright,  
In the forest of the night,  
What immortal hand or eye  
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?_  
  
  
  
**Privet Drive  
Night Time**  
  
Standing outside Privet Drive, with their wands out were Harry, Ron, several of his brothers and Mr. Weasley along with several trusted wizards from the Ministry of Magic. A large black dog was guarding Harry and Ron. Several death-eaters had broken the protective charms around the Dursley's residence where Harry Potter lives during the summer time.  
  
"Give it up," hisses a voice from behind a mask. "You're out matched!"  
  
"Never," shouts Ron. "You stupid git!"   
  
Soon hexes and curses were lobbied back and forth between the two groups. The Dursley's are cowering behind Harry to offer much help. They do exactly as Harry tells them, hoping to stay alive.   
  
Spotting a weakness in the death-eaters strategy, Ron whispers into snuffle's ear. Snuffle's agrees to take a shot of bringing the death-eaters down. Harry and Ron watch as Sirius bounds towards the death-eaters, as soon as he leaps onto one of them their protective circle is broken. The death-eater that Sirius attacked is knocked out cold. Leaving only three-conscience death-eater to handle.   
  
"Farewell," hisses a death-eater as he tries to apparate. Only to fade and show up where he was.   
  
"It's back up," shouts Fred as George shouts, "We got them now!"   
  
Ron and Harry nod to each other, instantaneous agreement. "Expelliarmus!" both boys shout as they point their wands at the death-eaters. A large black dog runs around gathering the fallen death-eaters wands with his teeth. Mr. Weasley tries to calm down the now frantic Dursley's.   
  
"Well," huffs Ron. "A few less death-eaters. Go us!"  
  
"Yeah," huffs Harry. "Go us!" The two boys high-five each other as the Ministry of Magic put the fallen death-eaters in magical chains. Patting both boys on the back Mr. Weasley takes his with each death-eater removing their individual mask.  
  
"Well," growls Ron. "Who do we have? Is it Malfoy?"  
  
"Let's see," states Mr. Weasley. "We have Joseph Flint, Ismah Higgs, and Rupert Gilden." Moving over to the death-eater who was still unconscious, Mr. Weasley removes his mask. "And last…we have Peter Pettigrew!"  
  
"What," shouts several voices. All are from the older wizards who had been informed that Sirius Black killed Pettigrew. There on the pavement was Peter Pettigrew.   
  
"Merlin," whispers one Ministry man. "An innocent man went to Azkaban!" All the wizards visibly shuddered. "We need to get him pardoned."   
  
"Yes," whisper both Ron and Harry as they again high-five each other.   
  
"Don't be so happy Potter," sneers Peter. Everyone turns to look at the former best friend of James Potter. "I wouldn't be if I was you." A large black dog growls, showing his eat and snapping his jaws open and close.   
  
"What makes you said that," questions Ron close to laughing at Peter.  
  
"You might have won this battle," snickers Peter. "But you have lost another."  
  
"That makes no sense," states Harry.   
  
"He's just a sore loser," states Ron.   
  
Peter starts to laugh hysterically at everyone. "Where is your best friend, Potter?" sneers Peter. "It's a real shame." Harry looks at Ron quizzingly until it dawns on both of them that Peter means Hermione. "I should say My Lord should be done with her right about now."  
  
"Mione," whispers George who turned pale white at Peter's suggestion.   
  
"We have to get to her," whispers Harry, just imaging what horrors Voldemort may have put her through. Snapping out of their collective stupor. "We have to go," states Harry looking to Mr. Weasley to lead the way.  
  
"No Harry, Ron you need to go to the Burrow. Fred, George and I will handle it," says Arthur. Pulling out a small bag he mumbles, "For emergencies." Lifting a crumbling old newspaper.   
  
"Come on Fred and George, grab a hold. Brian take Harry and Ron to the Burrow, along with Harry's dog. The rest of you make sure these death-eaters get the to Ministry of Magic level five lock-down unit. After that send a few recruits to the Granger house along with a medwitch."  
  
"Will do Arthur," "Hopefully this nut-case is only bluffing," float out in the night as the three Weasley's portkey to the Granger house.  
  
  
_In what distant deeps or skies  
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?  
On what wings dare he aspire?  
What the hand dare seize the fire?_  
  
  
**Granger Residence**  
  
Feeling the ground slam under their feet, signals to them that they had arrived at what was left of the Granger house. The air had a stale fowl smell; high above floating was the death mark. Patches of fire simmered on the ground were bits and pieces of residue from what was left of the Granger house. The eerie silence was contradictory to the sight before them.  
  
And what shoulder, and what art,  
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?  
When thy heart began to beat,  
What dread hand forged thy dread feet?  
  
  
"Fred you go that way," says Arthur pointing to his right. "George, you got that way." Pointing to his left. "I'll go straight. Wands out, at the slightest sign of trouble shout, apparate, anything goes."  
  
The twins silently follow their father's orders. Watching were they were stepping, careful not to accidentally step on any survives. Each one whispering out Hermione's name, hoping she would respond. Silence broken by the crackling of the pits of fire.  
  
  
_What the hammer? What the chain?  
In what furnace was thy brain?  
What the anvil? What dread grasp  
Dared its deadly terrors clasp?_  
  
  
They made their way around to the backyard. At any point all three men could look up and see the other two. When they reached the backyard, Arthur looked at his two boys. He could see tear streaks down both of their soiled faces. Swallowing hard, "Let's do a lap of the yard, again each of take a side. I'll go straight. We'll meet in the middle."  
  
A sudden burst of light, and a cold breeze causes all three men to jump. Then the heavens opened up, gentle drops of water fell down. Sizzling and hisses noises roared in the silent night as the rain battered against the pits of fire.   
  
  
_When the stars threw down their spears  
And watered heaven with their tears,  
Did He smile his work to see?  
Did He who made the lamb make thee?_  
  
  
Slowly all three men started to work their way around the debris, looking blocks of what was once the roof. Soft footstep on the sodden ground, was the only man made noise to break the silence.   
  
The light from the sun was dimming as it faded into the background. Each one muttered, "Lumos." Soon wand light was the only light that pierced the black night. Hope of finding the girl alive slowly seeps from Arthur, replaced by thought of how to break the news to his youngest son and his best friend.  
  
  
_Tiger, tiger, burning bright,  
In the forest of the night,  
What immortal hand or eye  
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?_  
  
  
"**DAD**!" bellows George. "Come quick! I found her."   
  
Running over Arthur was beating by Fred who dashed over. George took off his cloak, wrapping it around the body on the ground. Looking down at the pale almost lifeless, broken body from of Hermione Granger, who was covered only by George's cloak that he wrapped around her. Both Fred and Arthur had the urge to retch.   
  
Lifting her with supreme care, George cradles her close to him. "Oh, Mione," whispers George. "Hang on…we going to get you to a medwitch. You're going to be just fine. Please hang on." That night the Hermione Granger was admitted to St. Mungo's hospital. By her bedside sat George until Hermione woke up from a two-week coma.   



End file.
